


Robin Hood and the Little Trickster

by cruellae (tinkabelladk), Erina



Series: Future Past [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, de-aged akira, p5r spoilers!! this takes place entirely in the third semester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erina/pseuds/Erina
Summary: “Akira?” he says. “Is that you?”The child looks up at him. Even Goro has to admit he’s cute, with wide gray eyes and a head full of messy dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve.“Are you Robin Hood?” the child whispers.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Future Past [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863112
Comments: 664
Kudos: 1835
Collections: Marigolds Discord Recs





	1. Goro I

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by de-aged goro, here's our take of de-aged akira!  
> chapters will be alternating in pov. there will be p5r spoilers!!
> 
> goro pov - cruellae - updates fridays  
> akira pov - erina - updates tuesdays
> 
> we hope you enjoy!!

_I wish I had met you earlier, before everything… Because maybe then..._

* * *

Akira is such an idiot. 

Goro has known this from the very first time they met, when Akira shook his hand and looked him in the eye with a hint of a challenging smirk behind those stupid glasses. Declaring his support for the Phantom Thieves on live TV, befriending the detective who was trying to catch him.

On Shido’s ship, Akira had been dumb enough to try and bring his mortal enemy back into the fold, extending an open hand where he should have fired a gun. His willingness to forgive is evidence of a weak heart, nothing more, and it wasn’t enough to save Goro’s life anyway. 

Now, Goro has been brought back from the dead for the sole purpose of saving the world from Maruki’s banal reality. 

No. That is inaccurate. Fuck the world at large—the general public commodified him, but never helped him. He is here to save Akira from the chains Maruki would wrap around them all. And only because he owes Akira for taking down Shido. Not because Akira is too wild and beautiful to be caged.

It’s definitely not that. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, tapping the screen of his phone. “You moron. If you die, I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

He expected to hear from Akira this evening, if only because he’s heard from Akira every other night this week. Akira has been going about the unenviable task of trying to shake all of the Phantom Thieves out of the pleasant lies they’ve wrapped themselves in. He hasn’t talked about it to Goro, when they go to the jazz club or play billiards in the evening, but after all this time Goro can read Akira pretty well, and his disappointment and growing hopelessness are easy to see. 

Goro never liked the other Phantom Thieves, and knowing they’re the cause of Akira’s pain makes him angry. They never deserved him. They could never understand him the way Goro does, one Trickster to another. They were the aces and spades and kings and queens, their significance predetermined. They could never make sense of a Wild Card. 

Akira has a savior complex—that’s how he got saddled with such a motley crew. And it’s why Goro is sitting on pins and needles tonight, because after dragging Akira out of Maruki’s Palace so they could lick their wounds from a fight that nearly killed them, Akira insisted on going back inside to save Yoshizawa. 

If Goro wasn’t so certain Maruki didn’t want to kill Akira, he never would have allowed it. But instead, as they stood outside the Palace arguing, all Goro could think of was Yoshizawa’s big soft eyes, the way they light up whenever they land on Akira. How she’s always touching him, taking his arm or brushing their hands together. She’s beautiful in her Metaverse outfit, graceful and temperate, while Goro is ugly and wicked and vicious. 

And so he’d snapped at Akira. Told him to go play the hero so he could salve his wounded ego. His words had been cruel even by his own standards, and Akira had looked startled by them. 

Goro had left him there, glancing back over his shoulder to see Akira stepping into the elevator again, determined to save the girl. 

Now Goro’s spending an evening staring at the screen of his phone, something like worry clenching in his chest. Why hasn’t Akira called? 

Could he be lying hurt in that goddamn laboratory because Goro left him alone? 

Goro taps Akira’s number before he can think better of it and raises the phone to his ear. All the breath leaves his chest in a rush of relief when he hears the click of someone answering.

A long moment of silence passes. Goro can hear traffic in the background, a distant thrum of heavy bass. 

And then a trembling child’s voice says, “Robin Hood?” 

“Who is this?” Goro demands. “If this is some kind of joke…” 

He’s answered by a tiny gasp that sounds almost like a sob. “‘M sorry…” 

It’s pathetic enough to melt his cold heart just a little. 

“It’s okay,” he says, trying for gentle. Or at the very least, unintimidating. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Um...It’s Akira.” 

Goro frowns, his agile mind jumping from hypothesis to hypothesis. None of them make a lot of sense. He needs more information. 

“Mister Robin Hood?” A heart wrenching whimper. “Do you know where my mom and dad are?” 

“I don’t,” Goro says, which apparently is exactly the wrong thing to say, because now the child starts crying in earnest. “Don’t cry. I’m going to call someone to come take care of you. Stay where you are, okay?” 

Goro keeps the line open while he pulls up his list of contacts and realizes he doesn’t have contact information for any of the Phantom Thieves besides Akira. 

And even if he did, why would he bother? They’re all wrapped up in their new realities; who knows if they would even care that Akira is in trouble. 

He lifts the phone to his ear again. “Where are you, Akira?”

“I don’t...I don’t know. I’m sorry.” The sound of a car horn honking comes through the phone, and Akira draws in a shaky breath. “There’s lots of people and cars. I’m scared.” 

Goro takes a deep breath to steady the panic bubbling in his chest. What are the odds of finding one child, lost somewhere in Tokyo? 

But Goro is an excellent detective. He _will_ find Akira. There is no other option. 

“Tell me what you see,” he says, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he pulls on his shoes. 

“I don’t know…” Akira whimpers. “There’s a lot of stuff.” 

“Look for signs,” Goro says, hurrying out of his apartment building and onto the street in the direction of the station that will take him to LeBlanc. Yongen-Jaya is probably the best place to start. 

“Okay. I see...a sign with a cat on it. And a place that sells fruit. There’s a lady in a blue dress and she looks mad.”

“Irrelevant,” Goro mutters, but he’s thinking and thinking, laying out clues like so many puzzle pieces. 

After a moment Goro snaps his fingers, changing direction so suddenly he almost collides with a man carrying several shopping bags. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” the man says. 

“Fuck off,” Goro barks, and starts running. 

Four blocks past, he reaches the cat cafe where Akira usually meets him so they can take the train to Kichijoji together. A little boy in a gray coat as tall as he is stands by the entrance, holding a phone to his ear. 

Goro hangs up and slows his frantic pace to a brisk walk. 

“Akira?” he says. “Is that you?” 

The child looks up at him. Even Goro has to admit he’s cute, with wide gray eyes and a head full of messy dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

“Are you Robin Hood?” the child whispers. 

Goro has no idea why the kid would think of him as Robin Hood when it’s clear from his timid, curious expression that he doesn’t have any memories of Goro, or of Tokyo. Maybe some lingering subconscious association remains in his mind. But why Robin Hood? Goro thought Akira knew him better than that. 

Goro has left Robin Hood behind, shed his princely persona like a snake discarding a dried up husk of skin. Robin Hood was a lie, and Loki is the truth of him. But he’s guessing the only reason this child trusts him at all is because of the association with the legendary hero, however it came about. So he nods, and gestures for the child to follow him. 

“Come with me, Akira,” he says. “We’ll go back to my place and figure out what to do next.” 

He’s a little unsettled by the ease with which the child acquiesces, given that he’s little more than a stranger. But something about Akira’s tense posture and eager features give him the sense that this child is desperate to please the adults around him, regardless of his own needs. 

It’s not at all like the Akira he knows, and he wonders if he’ll be able to bring that Akira back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


	2. Akira I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reminds Akira of a whirlwind, a powerful and dismissive force that stalks decisively toward a goal and ignores everything else in its way.
> 
> His parents are the same. His dad is a businessman and his mom is a doctor and both of them are constantly looking at wealth, at fame, at success, and never at Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!

Akira observes the apartment quietly, noting the bare walls, the singular chair pushed in, the quiet grumbling of the heater filling the otherwise silent room. The apartment reminds him of his own room, decorated with little trinkets in an effort to make a jail cell feel more like a home.

The other boy—Robin Hood, Akira reminds himself—throws his keys onto the counter and glares at the air. When Akira first saw him, the boy’s scowl reminded him of his dad’s whenever Akira asked to spend more time together. It is an expression that Akira has become closely acquainted with, one tinged with so much exasperation and disappointment that he has learned it’s much easier to just not ask.

Akira watches the other boy closely. Robin Hood had materialized in front of him while he had been scared and crying, almost like a hero. But Akira thinks of the crossed arms, the impatient feet tapping, the cold and calculating glare, and rather than a hero, he reminds Akira more of one of those gangsters in some of his mom’s action films, the ones who just do whatever they want without caring about the consequences.

Akira wishes that he had that much confidence.

Robin Hood hadn’t said a word on the entire way back, walking with long and purposeful strides that had Akira scrambling to catch up. He reminds Akira of a whirlwind, a powerful and dismissive force that stalks decisively toward a goal and ignores everything else in its way.

His parents are the same. His dad is a businessman and his mom is a doctor and both of them are constantly looking at wealth, at fame, at success, and never at Akira.

Robin Hood throws open the fridge, and even from the corner where Akira stands, where he has tucked himself in to make himself as small as possible, he can see that the refrigerator is almost entirely empty. Akira can make out a single leaf of cabbage, an egg, and a row of beer cans lining the bottom.

Robin Hood curses under his breath and slams the door shut. He opens a cabinet and pulls something out. “You’re getting coffee,” he says, and then he finally notices Akira still twisting his fingers nervously in his little corner. He glares. “Why are you still over there?”

Akira meekly takes one step toward him.

“For fuck’s sake,” Robin Hood rolls his eyes, drops the can that he’s holding onto the table and points at the chair. “I’m not going to hold your hand. Sit down and drink the damn coffee.”

Now with clear instructions, Akira has no choice but to listen.

Akira approaches hesitantly, and when it’s clear that the only punishment that awaits him is the annoyance that is growing deeper and deeper on Robin Hood’s face every second he’s forced to wait, Akira sits down obediently and reaches for the can.

It’s labelled _Instant Coffee!_ with a picture of a panda mascot. When Akira tries it, it is strong and bitter and gross, but Akira dutifully presses his lips together and forces himself to swallow. It is a trick that he learned when he first cooked for himself, his attempts at meals charred and inedible, but still preferable to going to bed on an empty stomach.

Robin Hood has moved over to the kettle, but he glances over when Akira takes another sip, and then another one. He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you actually like it.”

Akira’s mouth is well-trained enough that he doesn’t even think about telling the truth. “It’s tasty,” he says.

Robin Hood snorts, the sound so loud and derisive that it almost makes Akira jump. But the boy doesn’t look angry, like his parents do when they discover that Akira has done something unsatisfactory again. He just looks like he couldn’t care less.

Robin Hood drops a couple items on the table. Two portions of cup noodles, and a can of beer. Akira recognizes the gesture and quickly gets up, the same way he hastily clears the dining table at his parents’ house whenever they return and retreats to his room so that he won’t ruin their dinner with his presence.

“I told you to sit,” Robin Hood snaps, and Akira hurls himself back into the chair so fast that it almost topples over. “You’re terrible at following instructions.”

A cold fist grips his heart and he twists his fingers together nervously. He thought that following orders was the only thing he was good at. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbles as quietly as he can.

Robin Hood rolls his eyes and pushes one of the cups of instant noodles at him. “Eat,” he orders. “You can do that much by yourself, can’t you?”

Akira stares. When the food doesn’t explode, or evaporate, or vanish, he tentatively looks up. “F-for me?” he asks softly.

“What, not good enough for you?” Robin Hood scoffs.

Akira shakes his head. He can’t remember the last time that someone made a meal for him. If he reaches far back into his memories, he can vaguely recall his mom setting a small bowl of rice in front of him with a heavy frown, a dismissive glance when he asks for more, an _I don’t have time for this. Make your own food in the future._

Yet this stranger had just made him dinner.

“Thank you,” he says, staring down at the dinner table. Akira finds that they’re the first truthful words he’s said in a very long time.

Robin Hood doesn’t even deem him worthy of a response, reaching for the can. When he catches Akira looking, he smirks. “This is for _responsible_ adults.” And then he tilts his head back and almost downs the whole thing.

Akira stares, eyes open wide. “That’s—”

“I told you to eat,” Robin Hood spits out.

And so Akira eats.

He’s had cup noodles before. He makes it for himself often, when his parents forget that they have a child that needs groceries. Akira doesn’t find the food particularly appetizing—it’s just a way to sustain himself until the next meal, when he’ll have to repeat the process all over again—but as he tries the bland soup, the tasteless noodles, he discovers that this particular cup is better than any of the others he’s had before.

“This is really good,” Akira says softly. “The soup is the right temperature and the noodles are—” Robin Hood glares at him, and Akira snaps his mouth shut.

People expect to be praised whenever they do anything. Akira knows this all too well. He doesn’t understand why Robin Hood keeps acting like the praise Akira gives him is nothing more than a burden.

They don’t say anything to each other for the remainder of the meal. Akira diligently eats his food and notices that his heart feels warmer than usual. Robin Hood inhales his own cup noodles and then grabs another can of beer. Akira does not ask. He’s learned that it’s better to keep his mouth shut about some things.

When Akira finishes, he looks up to see Robin Hood watching him with an unreadable expression. The older boy plucks his empty cup away before he can protest, tossing it into the trash can. “Wash your mouth,” he orders, and then disappears into another room.

Akira diligently goes to wash his mouth. He’s not sure what to do after that, so he takes another peek around the apartment. It’s the same as before. White, stark walls. Bland, standard decorations. A room with a lot of empty space, very little furniture, and even less personality. And yet.

He thinks about the heavy footsteps, the sound of Robin Hood stomping around in the other room.

He thinks about the singular chair, pushed back and still warm, an empty can of beer on the other side of the table.

He thinks about the two empty cups of instant noodles sitting in the trash, a rare sight for someone who has only ever seen it in quantities of one.

Akira glances down at his feet and wonders why, despite being filled with awards and trophies and prestige, his parents’ house feels less friendly than this bare and empty apartment.

“Hey,” he hears Robin Hood snap from the other room. “Come here.”

Akira goes.

* * *

Akira gets several pieces of clothing thrown in his face and hears the bedroom door slam shut all before he has a chance to protest the sleeping arrangements.

He lies in bed in a tshirt that is long enough to cover his knees and pants loose enough that he has to hold them up while walking. He wonders if this is okay, to take Robin Hood’s bed while the other boy sleeps on the couch. If this was anyone else, Akira would be out in the living room right now, insisting that there’s no way an intruder to someone’s home deserves the bed. But he isn’t sure Robin Hood would appreciate the attempt.

Robin Hood is unlike anyone he’s ever met.

Akira curls himself into a ball and tries unsuccessfully to fall asleep. At his parents’ house, the sound of the cars driving by helped lull him to sleep, accompanied by the soft glow of the Gray Pigeon nightlight he had saved up enough money to buy.

Robin Hood’s room is eerily quiet, no sounds of cars driving by, no people chattering outside the window, no bugs chirping into the night sky. It’s completely dark, so dark that Akira can barely make out his own fingers, and he suddenly feels like this is a box, a cold desolate cell meant to trap him forever.

Akira sits up quickly.

His desire to follow orders is quickly overshadowed by his rapidly growing fright. He’ll just wake up early and come back to the bed, he reasons with himself, the same way he always does to avoid his parents’ detection whenever he sleeps next to the heater for more warmth. Robin Hood won’t even know that he left to begin with.

He glances sadly at the warm blanket. He doesn’t know if it’s acceptable to bring it with him, to lay the clean sheet down on the floor when he doesn’t have permission, so he forgoes it.

Robin Hood is lying face up on the couch, eyes closed, and if he’s awake he doesn’t say anything. Akira pads closer softly and notices that he seems less scary when he’s sleeping, the scowl that seems permanently etched on his face replaced with a softer, calmer look.

Akira lies down on the floor at the base of the couch and curls up. The floor is less comfortable than the bed, and it takes a lot of tossing and turning to find a position that doesn’t hurt as much.

The room is still dark and the world outside is still eerily silent, but he can see the dim glow of the microwave clock from the corner of his eye, can hear Robin Hood’s soft breathing next to him, and Akira suddenly feels infinitely better.

The floor digs into his back and he shivers slightly from the cold, but the presence of another body so close to him, the quiet snores filling the room, helps lull Akira to sleep.

It’s the first time in a very long time that he’s fallen asleep to anything other than an empty house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


	3. Goro II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that what you think? If you don’t do exactly as I want, I’ll abandon you?” 
> 
> Akira shrinks down even further and doesn’t answer. 
> 
> Goro wonders if he has ever made Akira feel this way. He thinks that maybe he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!

Goro wakes on an unfamiliar, too soft surface, with the distinct feeling that he is not alone in the apartment. He can hear breathing that’s not his own from somewhere nearby, deep and even. Someone sleeping in the same room. Perhaps a threat. Perhaps not. 

Cautiously, carefully, he reaches under his pillow and breathes out a silent sigh of relief when his fingers curl around the grip of the gun hidden there. Only then does he open his eyes. 

Sunshine is falling in between the gap in the curtains, a thin strip of light crossing the carpet. There’s a head of messy black hair resting on the floor without a pillow, the boy curled in on himself like a pillbug. 

Someone who likes children would probably think it was cute, the way his hands rest beneath his chin and his knees are drawn almost to his chest.

Goro sits up and stretches, wondering what in hell he’s going to do with this child. How is he going to get his Akira back? 

Not that Akira is or ever could be _his_. 

He could probably find one of the Phantom Thieves if he wanted to. They would undoubtedly be more nurturing and kinder caretakers than Goro. But he remembers a week of evenings spent watching Akira’s heart break, as all of his dearest friends moved forward without him, tangled in their own lies. 

He’s not about to trust any one of them with Akira’s wellbeing now. 

No, the child needs to be his responsibility. He’ll have to figure out how to break this curse and return Akira to his adult self. 

But first, there are a few things that need to be taken care of. Like breakfast, which Goro doesn’t usually eat, but a child probably needs. And clothes, because nothing Goro has is going to fit a seven year old. 

On the floor beside the couch, the child shivers. Little fool, he’d taken up his position without a blanket or a pillow. Goro grabs the blanket off the bed and drapes it over the sleeping figure. 

He gets up, splashes water on his face, and dresses quickly. Gone are the days when he’d spend an hour in front of the mirror, applying makeup, fixing his hair just so, deciding which shirt to wear to which interview. 

Now, he doesn’t give a fuck, which makes it much easier. 

A few doors down a single mother lives with her three sons. Goro once scared off her abusive ex with a few well timed punches and a glimpse of his gun. Turns out the man who beat the mother and her children was not nearly so brave when he was up against someone who could fight back. Now, Goro tells her a modified version of his story and she loans him some clothes that should fit a seven year old, smiling fondly as she hands them over. 

When Goro returns to his apartment, he hears frantic scrambling as Akira scurries into the bedroom, the blanket trailing behind him. 

“Sorry,” Akira calls frantically, running over to the bed. 

Goro leans against the doorframe and watches with mild confusion as Akira quickly makes the bed, tucking the corners of the blankets in neatly and fluffing the pillows. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork, then turns to Goro and bows. 

“Thank you very much for giving me a place to sleep,” he says. 

“You made the bed,” Goro says, bemused. 

“Yes, sir.” Akira’s eyes flicker to his face, then away. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to wash the sheets first? I can do that if you show me where to go.” 

Goro doesn’t remember being seven years old very well. But he does recall that after his mother died, he became a snarling, feral child, more likely to bite the hand off a caretaker than offer to do their laundry. Nothing at all like the demure, too-polite kid before him, like a doll or a miniature adult. 

“No, I don’t want you to wash the fucking sheets,” he says. It comes out more bitter than he’d intended, but he doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t like seeing wild, rebellious Akira reduced to a child terrified that his own shadow is an inconvenience. 

“Sorry,” Akira murmurs, staring at his toes. 

“Why are you sorry?” Goro asks. “You haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t fucking apologize.” 

Akira’s eyes dart up to Goro’s face, wide and hopeful. “I didn’t?” 

“Of course not. Now, you need to get dressed. You can’t very well go around Tokyo like that.” 

Akira’s eyes widen, and he gasps softly. “We’re in Tokyo? For real?”

Goro nods, and for just a moment, a look of wonder replaces Akira’s usual ashamed gaze. It’s enough to make him forget himself for a second, long enough to say, “I’ll show you some of the city later.” 

Akira’s eyes light up like he’s been promised the moon instead of a trip to a few disappointing tourist traps. 

“But first, breakfast,” Goro says. “So get dressed. We’ll go out.” 

If anything, those gray eyes shine even brighter. Goro refuses to be affected by them. 

* * *

At the nearby diner, Goro starts to feel like he’s getting the hang of managing a child. It helps that Akira is quiet and almost frighteningly obedient. But then he asks Akira to hand him the salt and in the process Akira knocks over his glass of water and is in tears almost immediately. The spill isn’t large and they quickly contain it with napkins, but Akira looks despondent. 

“I didn’t mean to make a mess,” he murmurs, staring down at his plate of pancakes drowning in maple syrup. “I’m sorry.” 

Goro sighs. “Are you really sorry, Akira?” 

“Yes,” he says, sniffling. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Really?” Goro presses. “Are you sure?” 

Akira’s eyes flash almost too quickly to notice. A tiny hit of rebellion he immediately hides. 

“Yeah. I’m really sorry. I...I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

Akira pouts at him. Goro refuses to be swayed. He crosses his arms and levels his most imperious stare at Akira, the one that says: _Do better. Be better._

Akira has never failed to rise to the challenge. 

“I _am_ sorry,” Akira says again. 

Goro raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like you really are.” 

Akira’s face gets red and his shoulders tremble. He huffs in a heavy breath and scowls. “Fine. I’m not sorry. I’m NOT sorry. It was an accident and you’re being mean and _you_ should be sorry.” 

_There’s my rival._

His anger spent, Akira peeks up at him, keeping his head tucked like he’s expecting punishment. 

“Are you going to leave now?” he asks, in a very tiny voice. “I can find my way back home if you want me to.” 

“Is that what you think? If you don’t do exactly as I want, I’ll abandon you?” 

Akira shrinks down even further and doesn’t answer. 

Goro wants to take his serrated sword and make mincemeat of everyone who has ever made Akira feel this way. 

He wonders if _he_ has ever made Akira feel this way. He thinks that maybe he has. 

“Listen to me, Akira.” He leans forward, one elbow on the table. “Anyone who acts that way doesn’t deserve to have you around.” 

Akira twists his fingers, staring at his plate. “But I don’t want to be alone.” 

“It’s better to be alone than to be surrounded by sycophants.” 

“What are sin..sinco-pants?” 

“Sycophants. They’re people who only tell you what you want to hear, even if it’s a lie.” 

“Oh.” More twisting of the fingers. “I guess I’m a sinc...sinco...one of those. Cause I try to say what people want.” 

“When you do that, people take from you.” Goro picks up his fork and steals a bite of Akira’s pancakes, taking with it a significant amount of whipped cream. Akira stares at him indignantly. “Like this. They take your pancakes. Or your time. Or your self respect. Unless you stand up for yourself, they’ll take everything.” 

He hovers over Akira’s pancakes with his fork, and smiles at him. This is something he can teach Akira, something even adult Akira doesn’t understand. 

“Are you going to let me take your food?” he asks. “Or are you going to tell me to fuck off?” 

Akira is clearly conflicted, looking from the remaining whipped cream on his plate to Goro’s eyes and back again. And then his eyes flash like the righteous criminal he will become, and he crosses his arms and squares his little shoulders. 

“Fuck off,” he says, though it’s barely more than a whisper. His eyes widen and he claps his hand over his mouth. 

“Well done,” Goro says, but takes a chunk of Akira’s pancake anyway because the world is cruel and the sooner he learns that the better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


	4. Akira II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At his parents’ house, this behavior would have been punished with several days of house arrest. At school, he would have been called a criminal with anger issues just because he wanted to protect himself.
> 
> Robin Hood had eaten his pancake anyway. But he had seemed more amused than upset. Did that mean that what Akira did was okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> For those that have read the de-aged Goro fic, [here's a drawing Sora made for the bonus chapter 6!](https://twitter.com/reveriesky/status/1295211405956718592) I'll be linking all art in the series description.

Akira barely has time to wipe the remainder of the maple syrup off his mouth before he’s chasing after Robin Hood, whose long strides nearly take him across the entire crosswalk before Akira catches up.

Robin Hood pays no attention as Akira falls into step, trailing a couple paces behind and staring at the older boy’s back. He thinks back to the conversation in the diner, the anger and frustration he always tries so hard to suppress crashing out of him in waves, the personality he keeps chained inside him fraying at the seams and bursting out in one fell swoop.

At his parents’ house, this behavior would have been punished with several days of house arrest. At school, he would have been called a criminal with anger issues just because he wanted to protect himself.

Robin Hood had eaten his pancake anyway. But he had seemed more amused than upset. Did that mean that what Akira did was okay?

They stop in front of the entrance to a subway station, and Akira quickly hides himself in Robin Hood’s shadow to avoid the curious gazes of the passersby. The older boy is fiddling with his phone, tapping something impatiently, but before Akira can ask what he’s doing, why they’re here, Robin Hood grabs his wrist and suddenly the whole world turns upside down.

When Akira opens his eyes again, the walls and ceilings are stark white, he’s lying on his back, and Robin Hood is staring down at him disapprovingly. “Get up.”

Akira scrambles to stand up, eyes wide as he takes in his surroundings. The air is murky, covered by a thin layer of dust, and he wrinkles his nose to prevent a sneeze. “Where are we?” he asks, and then does a double take. “W-what are you wearing?”

Robin Hood snorts. “Mementos,” he says, as if that’s an answer that Akira’s supposed to understand. He looks down dispassionately at his clothes. “This is a work uniform.”

Akira blinks. “You look…” he pauses, trying to find the proper words. The black mask is jagged and sharp, almost covering the other boy’s entire head. “Like a bad guy.”

Robin Hood smiles, and it’s all teeth. “Did you think I was a hero?” he asks, taking off without waiting for an answer.

Akira hurries to keep up with him. “Yes,” he says. He can hear something shuffling around nearby, a couple corridors down, but the older boy pays it no mind. “Because you’re Robin Hood.”

Robin Hood rolls his eyes. “Why do you call me that?” he demands.

Akira fishes the cellphone out of his pocket and shows it to him. “When you called me, that’s the name that showed up.”

Robin Hood stares at the screen for a couple seconds, and then lets out an ugly laugh. “You dumb sentimental fool,” he sneers. “I thought you knew me better than that. Do you _really_ still believe in the disgusting justice of that fake detective prince?”

“No,” Akira says quietly. He has no idea what the other boy is talking about.

“It was all a lie,” Robin Hood says breezily, and Akira gets the distinct impression that the other boy is talking to someone else entirely, but he isn’t sure who. “An act so that people would want me around.”

This, Akira does understand. He nods attentively. He didn’t know that Robin Hood also puts on masks so that others would accept him. He comes off as the type of person who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him.

“Robin Hood was nothing but a delusion.” Akira’s still trying to follow the conversation, and he thinks that they’re probably not talking about the display name anymore. “I can’t go back to—”

There’s a rush of blue flames that has Akira stepping back instinctively, letting out a quiet gasp of astonishment and covering his eyes. When it dies down a second later, he blinks at the visage of a prince-like character, clad entirely in white with a large, pointy red mask resting on his face.

Robin Hood is looking at his clothes in confusion. “What the fuck,” he says, pulling on his sleeve.

“You look like…” Akira begins, but then realizes there’s no appropriate way to end the sentence. “A toucan?” he finishes lamely.

Robin Hood snarls at him, and the prince outfit disappears into flames, replaced with the original, darker one.

Akira stares down at his own outfit. He’s still wearing the same clothes that Robin Hood had given him earlier, the ones that are comfy and smell faintly of flowery laundry detergent. He wonders if it’s possible for him to get an outfit like Robin Hood’s too, one that reminds him of the superhero uniforms that the Featherman Rangers wear.

“Take it,” Robin Hood says suddenly, jolting him out of his thoughts, and Akira almost falls down when he comes face to face with the tip of a knife.

Akira pouts, trying to ignore how fast his heart is racing. “You’re supposed to hold it with the handle facing out,” he says.

Robin Hood rolls his eyes and then deftly flips the knife around with a flick of the wrist and holds the handle out. Akira gapes, dumbfounded, but he quickly takes the weapon when Robin Hood jabs the handle impatiently against his cheek.

He stares down at the knife, turning it over in his hands. He’s used knives before, at his parents’ house when he’s alone, standing on his tippy toes trying to cut the onions sitting on a counter too high for him.

But he’s not at his parents’ house. He’s in _Me-men-tos_ and he doesn’t know why he was just handed a knife.

“What’s this for?” Akira asks when the other boy doesn’t offer any explanation.

Robin Hood gives him a sharp smile. “Killing,” he smirks, his eyes blown wide. “Do try to keep up.”

* * *

Keeping up, Akira realizes soon after, means trying to find the best hiding spots while Robin Hood goes out of his way to massacre every single one of those weird slimy things.

Akira jumps out of the way right as a teddy bear shaped monster comes crashing down, and then seconds later Robin Hood is on it, his jagged red sword slashing at everything it can reach, tearing the monster apart until it disappears into a swirl of black.

Rather than a toucan, Robin Hood reminds him of the wolf in a documentary he once watched in class, the shining glint of a predator in his eyes as he relentlessly hunts down his prey.

Sometimes, Robin Hood forgoes the sword completely. He laughs, the sound echoing harshly off the white walls, and then hisses “to me, Loki” as a striped monster shatters into existence. Akira gapes as Loki casts what looks like dark magic and slashes away with a huge, golden sword, radiating power and confidence and rebellion all at once.

When he thinks Robin Hood isn’t looking, Akira pokes Loki curiously. It’s squishier than it looks.

He’s still not quite sure what these monsters are. Robin Hood had rolled his eyes and said something about shadows, human cognitions, and finding a way to turn him back to normal, but the explanation mostly goes over his head.

They take the escalator down another level, which looks the same as the floor above it. Akira’s still holding the knife rather uselessly, and he wonders, not for the first time, why Robin Hood even brought him here when he’s nothing more than a liability. Why he had fed Akira and gotten him new clothes and given him a place to sleep.

Why Robin Hood even wanted him around, really.

“Hey,” Robin Hood says from somewhere in front of him. He sounds annoyed. “You better not be—”

Akira never hears what he shouldn’t be doing. There’s a loud, angry yell and his head whips up and comes face to face with a huge black dog hunched over something, snapping furiously.

Robin Hood is on his back, pushing at the dog monster’s face with both hands. “You piece of shit,” he snarls, tilting his head to narrowly avoid the sharp teeth. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to _kill_ you—”

Despite his aggressive words, Akira can see that the distance between the monster’s teeth and Robin Hood’s neck is decreasing rapidly. His palms feel sweaty, the loud beating of his heart echoing so loudly that it almost drowns out everything else, and his mind is conjuring an image on repeat of Robin Hood’s lifeless, bloody body lying helplessly on the floor.

Akira grips the knife more firmly and then he’s charging forward before he can even think about it.

He doesn’t know a single thing about fighting, so he aims for the body. The knife sinks in more easily than he expects, and the dog monster lets out a loud howl, jerking back instinctively. Akira’s still gripping onto the handle of the knife and he almost gets flung aside in the frenzy.

Robin Hood sits up, taking in several shallow breaths, looking bloody and damaged but _alive._ “Turn the knife ninety degrees,” he orders. “The bones are in the way.”

Akira does as he’s told and tries not to listen to the squelching noises that it makes. The screams of the dog monster right in his ear help in drowning everything else out.

“Now,” Robin Hood says. His eyes are a little crazed and he looks absolutely delighted. “ _Slaughter it._ ”

Akira yanks the knife down as hard as he can and the dog monster lets out an unearthly shriek, flailing about wildly for a couple seconds before disappearing in a burst of wind.

Now, with the knife suspended in empty air, Akira loses his balance and he falls on his butt, the weapon clattering to the ground uselessly next to him. He’s breathing fast, the phantom feeling of the knife ripping through the monster still tingling in his fingers.

Akira stares down at his hands. trembling slightly. He had just stabbed something. But strangely, it doesn’t feel that bad.

In fact, it almost feels...

He looks up to see Robin Hood towering over him. But for once, he doesn’t look disappointed. He’s smirking, eyes dancing in amusement, looking not at all like the boy screaming murder just a few minutes before.

Robin Hood crouches down so that they’re at eye level. His lips stretch out to the same, wild grin, but this one feels more genuine than any of the others. “Nicely done, Akira,” he purrs, looking very pleased. “You’ve got potential.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


	5. Goro III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro glances at him with something almost like fondness. The kid took to swinging a blade easily—Goro shouldn’t have expected anything less. Little Akira moved through the Metaverse like he was made for it. 
> 
> Goro is struck with a longing for Joker so intense it feels like a physical pull, and tries not to wonder if he is ever going to get his rival back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nova drew an AMAZING comparison between [Akira parenting and Goro parenting.](https://twitter.com/Novallion_/status/1295913663128313856) Please check it out!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!  
> And thanks to Kiva for all the gun safety tips. :)

Goro sighs as the Metaverse fades away around them, leaving him standing in an isolated corner of the Shibuya station, Akira wide-eyed and tense beside him. 

“Well, that was pointless,” he grumbles. He had been hoping to find Jose, or the entrance to the Velvet Room, or something that would give him a clue as to what the hell had happened to Akira and how to change him back. But all they accomplished was killing a couple of shadows. 

Which leaves them with only one option to investigate this mysterious ailment. They’re going to have to confront Maruki. 

If they’re going to make it through the Palace and possibly even fight Maruki himself, Akira will need to be able to defend himself. For that, he’s going to need more than just a little knife. 

“What were you trying to do in there?” Akira asks, all adorable innocence and eagerness. 

Goro glances at him with something almost like fondness. The kid took to swinging a blade easily—Goro shouldn’t have expected anything less. Little Akira moved through the Metaverse like he was made for it. 

Goro is struck with a longing for Joker so intense it feels like a physical pull, and tries not to wonder if he is ever going to get his rival back to normal. 

“You did good,” he says, ruffling the kid’s hair to distract himself from his churning thoughts. It’s something he’s seen adults do to kids on TV, though after his mother died, there was no one left to make such affectionate gestures towards him. Just as well; after her death, he probably would have attacked anyone who tried to touch him, even if it was kindly meant. 

Akira grins up at him. “Maybe if you try to take my pancakes again, I can stop you.” 

Goro hides a smile. _Smart kid._

“Well. I was going to buy you a present, but now maybe I won’t,” Goro says, leading Akira to the train that will take them to Shinjuku as the sunset glows orange through the city streets. 

“What is it?” Akira asks. 

“You’ll have to wait and find out. Come on, the train’s here.” 

Akira’s eyes widen as they climb onto the train, like he’s never ridden one before. Hell, maybe he hasn’t. Akira had told Goro he was from the country. 

“Wow,” Akira says, looking around. “This is neat.” 

“Hold on,” Goro says as the train lurches out of the station, but instead of grabbing the railing like a normal person, Akira grabs Goro’s wrist with one hand and a handful of his coat with the other to keep himself from stumbling. 

And then he continues to hold Goro’s hand the rest of the way. His fingers are small and sweaty, and it’s just odd to have any physical contact after so long without. When a few shady yakuza types walk by, Goro pulls Akira a little closer without thinking, something like protectiveness curling in his chest. 

Utter foolishness. He needs to fix Akira, and _now_. 

Twilight is descending on them as he leads the child through the maze of back alleys in Shinjuku to an unremarkable shop selling second hand cellphones and accessories. Ito-san, tall and broad with a missing front tooth and arms covered in tattoos, waves at him as soon as he walks in. 

“Akechi-kun! Long time no see, man. They all said you kicked the bucket. But I knew better. That Akechi, I told ‘em, he’s too mean to die.” 

Goro smiles. “You might be right.” 

“Who’s the kid?” Ito-san nods at Akira, who has been inching closer to Goro’s side since they got off the train and at this point nearly has his nose buried in Goro’s jacket. 

“This is Akira.” 

“Hello,” Akira says, very softly. 

Ito-san looks from Goro to Akira and raises a bushy eyebrow. 

“He’s not mine,” Goro says. “He’s just staying with me for a little while.”

“Gotcha,” Ito-san says, in the tone of someone who understands just how dangerous it can be to ask questions. “So what brings ya out here?” 

“Akira needs some...firepower.” Goro puts a hand on the child’s back and pushes him gently forward a few steps. “Do you have anything that he can use?” 

Hesitation flashes across Ito-san’s face, but he knows better than to go against Goro’s wishes. Shido may be in jail, but the hierarchy he cemented is still holding, for the time being. Even though he’s given a confession, no one believes the big man is really going down, not yet. He looms too large in their worldview. 

_Hell, maybe his Conspiracy is the reality they wished for._

Ito-san brings out a tray with several different guns on it. Akira stares at the arsenal, looking intimidated but also impressed. 

“Go ahead,” Goro says. “They’re not loaded. You can pick them up.” 

Curiosity and excitement flashes in Akira’s eyes—little thrill seeker, just like his adult self. But his fingers are hesitant at first, trembling as they brush the barrel of a pistol very similar to the one Joker had in the Metaverse. After glancing at Goro for reassurance, he picks up the gun and turns it over in his hands, fascinated by the dull metal gleam. 

But then he puts it back and clasps his hands behind his back, looking timidly up at Goro. 

“What?” Goro asks, annoyed. 

“They’re expensive.” Akira’s voice is so soft Goro can barely make out the words. 

Goro has noticed how meticulous Akira is with money. How he counts out an equal share of the spoils for everyone on the team, regardless of the fact that he is always in the vanguard while the others swap in and out. How he pays for ramen for Yusuke and Featherman figures for Futaba and equipment for the whole goddamn team, but has never let Goro so much as buy him a cup of coffee. 

“Good weapons cost money,” Ito-san says, shrugging. “And mine are the best.” 

“I want you to be able to protect yourself,” Goro says to Akira. “That’s worth spending money on.” 

Akira, staring very intently at the floor, gives him the slightest of nods. 

Goro turns back to Ito-san, who is watching them with amusement. So much for being “too mean to die.” After this he’s going to have a reputation for being a soft touch—and the horrifying thing is that it’s becoming a little bit true. 

“He’ll take this one,” Goro says brusquely, tapping the pistol. It happens to be the most expensive of the lot, but Goro has a lot of Shido’s ill-gotten cash to get rid of. 

He doesn’t miss the smile that flashes across Akira’s face, before the boy hides it behind a demure frown and promises to pay Goro back. Goro rolls his eyes and tells the kid not to be ridiculous. 

* * *

The guard at the firing range sits behind a glass partition, police-issue rifles, pistols, and ammunition stored behind him. His feet are up on the desk, a magazine in his hand, but he puts it down when he hears two sets of footsteps on the linoleum. 

“It’s been awhile, Ace,” he says, sitting up straight. “Here to practice?” 

“To teach, actually,” Goro says, thoughtlessly putting his hand on Akira’s shoulder. The child is standing close to him, probably intimidated by the cold surroundings and the weaponry, an arsenal of firearms glinting dull gray under fluorescent lights. 

“Gotcha.” The man slides a key across the desk. He doesn’t look troubled by Akira’s age or reticence. But then, he was bought and paid for by Shido’s people a long time ago.

Goro takes the key with a nod of thanks. 

“Are we really gonna shoot a gun?” Akira whispers, as Goro lets them into the firing range. 

“We are.” Goro knows that Akira preferred to get fake guns for use in the Metaverse, but in his experience, the real ones are more effective, sharpening the cognition and increasing its power. 

If they’re going to go after Maruki to undo this strange ailment, Goro needs to know that Akira can protect himself. 

“How come all these bad guys know you?” Akira asks, peering up at him.

Goro chuckles. “Because I’m a bad guy too. Now come here so I can show you how to load your gun.” 

He gives Akira a lecture on gun safety, and Akira takes to it more scrupulously than he would have thought, always tracking where his gun is pointed, flinching guiltily if he forgets himself and lets the barrel stray away from the target. In a way, it’s a little sad. Shouldn’t children be more carefree? But if Goro needs to train him to use a gun, it’s a good thing Akira is more responsible than most adults. 

It turns out Akira is a terrible shot. And why wouldn’t he be? He’s never done it before, he doesn’t know the technique, and even a pistol’s recoil is jarring for a child. But somehow it comes as a surprise, like Goro expected Joker’s smooth skills in the Metaverse to transfer to this setting. 

Akira shoots again and again, and Goro gives pointers that he struggles miserably to follow, biting his lip and scrunching his face in concentration until he’s near tears. 

It reminds Goro of when he first started learning to shoot. At fifteen years old he was the youngest person at the range, slipping in during the late evening or early morning to avoid drawing attention to himself. Learning what he could from the internet because there was no one to teach him. Shido had simply given him a gun and expected him to learn to use it. 

It had been a difficult, frustrating process, but he had pushed through it out of sheer force of will because if he failed Shido, his life was forfeit, and Goro was not about to lose the game. 

Only later would he realize he had lost long before making his first move.

He closes his eyes for a moment and swallows the bitterness rising in his chest like bile. 

“Are you okay?” Akira’s voice, soft and concerned, is accompanied by a tug on Goro’s sleeve. “You don’t like it here, huh?” 

Goro wonders what gave him away. It probably wouldn’t take much—he can tell Akira has had to learn to read the needs of the adults around him in order to survive. It’s a talent that landed his grown up self a network of dozens of friends and confidants. 

“Do you remember how you stood up to me this morning?” Goro asks. He wants to give Akira the choice he never had.

Akira nods, lower lip wobbling. He holds the gun at his side, barrel pointed at the ground. 

“If you don’t want to do this, you can tell me. I won’t force you to keep going.” 

Akira sniffles, but his eyes flash with anger. “You think I can’t do it. I’ll show you, Mister Robin Hood.”

Goro sighs, rubbing his forehead. “My name is Akechi. I don’t know _why_ you insist on calling me Robin Hood.” 

But Akira is already raising the pistol again, careful not to aim it at anything but the target. Even so, he barely manages to hit the edges of the paper. 

Goro taps his shoulder and he turns, tilting his head. Tears glisten in his gray eyes but he blinks them away. 

“You’ve never failed at a challenge I’ve given you,” Goro says. “Don’t start now. Just take a deep breath and let it out. And shoot like you mean it.” 

He gently checks that the ear protection is secure on Akira’s head, brushing his dark curls in a way that is almost affectionate, and steps back to watch. 

The first bullet hits the target’s outline. The second drifts closer to the center. The third, fourth, and fifth tear into the chest, and one more pierces the target’s head. 

Akira lowers the gun and turns to Goro, beaming. 

“Well done,” Goro says, his chest swelling with pride and something like fondness. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Akira has always been special, after all. Goro has always hated him for it. 

For a moment he’s back in Shibuya, on that cold November night when he let his mask drop and told Akira how he really felt. He’d spat the words at his rival, furious and spiteful and twisted tight with the knowledge of what was to come. 

Now, looking down at the child’s shining eyes, the gun held so carefully in his little hand and the open trust written across his face, Goro wonders if he’s actually been fighting against Akira at all. Or if Akira has merely been waiting for Goro to stop fighting against his own worst enemy—himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)


	6. Akira III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira briefly wonders how his parents are doing, if they’ve noticed that he’s been gone or if they just assume that he’s been going to bed early every time they’ve been home. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks about them, much less prominent than when he had first started living alone, but still there despite his best attempts to squash it.
> 
> But then Robin Hood’s glancing over his shoulder, telling him to hurry up, and all thoughts of his parents disappear as he scrambles to tie his shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!  
> There's a little surprise in the chapter, but I'll talk about it at the end, so make sure to stick around!

Several days pass. Akira spends most of his time at the shooting range, his tiny hands still trembling around the grip of the pistol, or in Robin Hood’s apartment, watching Featherman Rangers movies he didn’t know existed and practicing how to do the cool knife flip that Robin Hood can do.

At the moment, the apartment is a mess. Unwilling to let a seven-year-old take care of him, Robin Hood had taken his jagged, scary-looking sword and tried to cut the meat with it. Several flying ingredients later, Akira finally mustered up the courage to push Robin Hood out of the kitchen and restart the meal from scratch.

The older boy had grumbled all the way to the bedroom, but Akira had waved the spatula at him threateningly. It hadn’t worked. Robin Hood had snorted and held up his own sword, which had been much more intimidating with bloody chicken bits still stuck in it. But he had left Akira alone to finish making the meal in peace.

When Robin Hood comes back out, Akira puts the finished bowl down on the table, a towel tied around his waist as a makeshift apron while he taps the spatula against his palm impatiently. He eagerly watches the other boy.

Robin Hood stares down at the food. It isn’t anything special, just some rice with eggs because all the meat had been destroyed in their previous attempt, but considering that they’ve had cup noodles for dinner every night so far, Akira thinks that maybe this isn’t that bad.

Robin Hood tries some of the rice, and then a bit of the eggs, chewing thoroughly. Akira holds his breath. “Not bad,” the older boy says finally, and then snorts when Akira perks up. “You’re easy to please, aren’t you?”

Akira never thought of himself that way, but he nods anyway.

Sleeping arrangements have also evolved over the week. Robin Hood pushes him toward the bedroom every evening, and every evening Akira pretends to go to sleep before climbing out of the bed and curling up at the base of the couch. This goes on for several nights before Robin Hood finally gives in, and the two of them lay down on opposite ends of the bed one evening.

Robin Hood wakes up with a seven-year-old clinging to him, drooling onto his shirt. Akira wakes up after being punted to the ground. Both of them glare at each other, but neither bring up switching sleeping arrangements again.

Akira briefly wonders how his parents are doing, if they’ve noticed that he’s been gone or if they just assume that he’s been going to bed early every time they’ve been home. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks about them, much less prominent than when he had first started living alone, but still there despite his best attempts to squash it.

But then Robin Hood’s glancing over his shoulder, telling him to hurry up, and all thoughts of his parents disappear as he scrambles to tie his shoes.

They’re in a weird monster place again today, but this one seems different. There are a bunch of faceless people in lab coats standing near the entrance, mulling over scientific poster boards and chatting amongst themselves. Robin Hood pays them no attention, but Akira can’t get them out of his mind, the sight of their blank faces strangely eerie.

Akira follows after Robin Hood, his knife grasped in one hand and his gun strapped in a tiny holster around his waist. He feels so cool like this, and that’s why despite enjoying the quiet afternoons where his biggest problem is fending off Robin Hood’s attempts to steal his popcorn while they’re watching a movie, he prefers days like these where he can watch Robin Hood do his work.

Robin Hood is fighting a couple of skulls with snakes wrapped around them, but Akira’s not worried. He knows how strong Robin Hood is, knows that despite how erratic his movements seem, his eyes are always intense and calculating, his attacks deliberate and precise.

Akira has gotten better too. Maybe not at attacking, but he’s been following Robin Hood’s movements with his eyes for several days, so he can guess the basic patterns. He ducks out of the way when the older boy attacks, always moving in sync to hide in Robin Hood’s shadow so that the monsters won’t notice him. This way, he won’t be a liability.

Robin Hood’s lips curl up when he notices. “Perceptive,” he drawls. It’s not the most impressive compliment he’s ever received. But Akira’s heart beats so loudly and his face flushes red and he quickly turns away to the sound of Robin Hood’s snickers.

In fights that are a little easier, Robin Hood lets Akira join in. They are fighting against a rainbow colored human shaped monster, and Robin Hood dispels his own monster and instructs Akira in a low voice. Akira grips his knife tightly, still too scared to use his gun despite being reassured that for some reason it won’t hurt Robin Hood even if he accidentally hits him, and charges forward, ducking out of the way of a magic spell before stabbing the monster.

The monster’s dying shriek still scares him, but he’s gotten enough practice that he doesn’t fall over when it disappears. Robin Hood approaches him, face impassive, so Akira tries to show off and do the knife flip that he’s been practicing. He fumbles it.

The knife drops to ground with a sad clatter. Robin Hood snorts. Akira picks it up, face burning in mortification, but then the older boy ruffles his hair, hand hesitating slightly before pulling away, and the action is enough to make Akira forget all about his previous slipup.

Akira doesn’t know if he’s just yearning for praise, or if it’s Robin Hood’s in particular that he wants. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

* * *

Sometimes, things aren’t that easy.

They’re fighting a red sword wielding monster, and even Akira’s inexperienced eye can tell that this one is different from the others. He quickly hides himself behind a pillar as Robin Hood calls out Loki, the monster poised and ready to attack, but not yet committing.

It only takes a couple minutes for Akira to realize that Robin Hood might be in trouble.

They trade blows, but every attack that connects with Robin Hood sounds like a ton of bricks, and Akira watches worriedly as the older boy staggers backward after a particularly heavy hit. Robin Hood lets out a few wheezes, and he’s not fast enough to block the downward swing of the sword.

“Robin Hood!” Akira yells, and abandons his hiding spot in favor of running to the fallen boy. Robin Hood is lying on the ground, trying to push himself up. “A-are you okay?”

“Doing great,” Robin Hood grits out, before his arms give out and he flops to the floor again.

There’s the sound of jangling as the monster approaches them, and Akira’s not sure what he can do when even Robin Hood had trouble, but he doesn’t think twice before throwing himself in front of the other boy. “G-go away,” he says, hating how his voice trembles as he holds up his knife with shaky hands. “Please, go away.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Robin Hood snarl. He’s pulled himself up into a crouch and attempts to place himself between Akira and the monster.

“I don’t want you to die!” It comes out a little too loudly, but Akira can barely hold back his tears, biting his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. He’s too scared to let go of the knife, and he inches closer to the other boy. “Please, I don’t…”

Robin Hood is silent for a moment before the growl of the monster seems to bring him back to reality. “Fine,” he grouses out, and then the blue flames appear again. Akira watches as his striped outfit is replaced with the pure white one, regal and dignified but not any less dangerous. “Do you trust me, Akira?”

Akira doesn’t know why Robin Hood changed outfits when his answer would have been the same either way. “Yes,” he says without hesitation, and then watches Robin Hood’s eye twitch.

“Idiot,” he snaps, though his voice lacks bite. “Follow me.” Robin Hood springs into action and Akira follows after him, unsure what the plan is but wielding his desire to protect the older boy with determination.

Robin Hood drives his sword through the monster’s arm. The monster lets out a shriek and readies its own weapon, pointed straight at Robin Hood’s heart.

Akira’s moving before he even realizes what he’s doing. He’s too short to reach anything, so he goes for the monster’s kneecaps instead. The monster nearly kicks him away, but then Robin Hood’s cackling, sounding more like his usual self, and he’s slashing at the monster’s other arm, drawing its attention back to him.

They continue to fight like this. Robin Hood attacks, and Akira goes for the feet when it looks like the monster is readying a counterattack to throw it off balance. The attack is working surprisingly well for a clumsily put together plan, despite Akira nearly crashing into Robin Hood several times.

Akira soon notices that the head is the only unharmed area, but he can’t reach it with his knife. While the monster’s attention is on Robin Hood, Akira wraps his hands around the gun, pulling it out of the holster with trembling fingers, levelling the weapon at the monster’s head and wrapping his finger around the trigger.

He tries to remember everything Robin Hood taught him, the proper stance, the way he’s supposed to aim it. But his heart is beating so loudly, blood rushing to his head, and his first shot lets out a deafening boom but misses wide.

Akira gulps when the monster turns to look at him. But then it crumples to the ground when Robin Hood levels a well-aimed kick at its knee.

“Akira,” Robin Hood says, and Akira suddenly feels a warm presence behind him, gentle but firm hands on top of his own on the trigger. “Deep breath, and then aim.”

Akira does as he’s told, breathing in deeply to cover the roaring sound of his own heartbeat, and then squeezes the trigger again when the monster gets up.

The bullet goes straight through its head. It vanishes into a swirl of smoke.

Akira’s still breathing heavily when Robin Hood releases him, the warm presence behind him disappearing. The older boy brushes himself off nonchalantly, face blank, looking as if he had already forgotten about what just happened.

Akira runs up to him and attaches himself to his leg.

“What are you doing?” Robin Hood snarls, shaking his leg, but Akira doesn’t let go. “Stop clinging to me, you—”

Akira looks up at his scowling face and gives him the biggest smile he can muster.

Robin Hood stares down at him like he’s a foreign object, and then his face contorts rapidly, jumping between several emotions, from shock to anger to something that looks a little pleased.

He settles for mild annoyance. “You did good, Akira,” he sighs. Akira beams up at him, and the older boy’s face twitches again. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, balling them up into fists before slowly raising them to wrap around Akira.

Before he can do so, someone behind them says, “Whoa, they defeated that tough Shadow.”

Robin Hood jolts, pushing him away, his outfit reverting back to the darker colored one. Akira quickly resumes his position, hiding himself behind Robin Hood’s leg, head peeking out curiously. There’s a group of people dressed in weird costumes approaching, wearing masks similar to Robin Hood’s.

“With just the two of them?” a woman with brown hair and a steel mask says. “That’s not possible—Akechi-kun?!”

Robin Hood lets out a very long sigh and mutters “Fuck.”

“Dude, you’re alive?” says the boy with blond hair. “We all thought you died!”

“I’m aware,” Robin Hood says tersely.

“Wait,” says the orange haired girl. “You have a kid?”

Several pairs of eyes swivel to him. He presses himself closer to Robin Hood’s leg, and the older boy lets out another sigh.

The blonde-haired girl with a red cat mask inches forward, giving him a smile. “Hello,” she says gently. “What’s your name?”

Akira looks up at Robin Hood to see if he’s permitted to answer. But Robin Hood is looking everywhere but him.

“Hi,” he says shyly, poking his head out. Even with the mask on, he can see the girl’s eyes widen. “My name is Akira.”

The following silence is deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sora (@reveriesky) decided to collab with us, so there will be a picture in every chapter! For the Akechi povs (odd number) they will be from his pov and taken from a phone, while for Akira povs (even number) they will be from his pov and taken as a polaroid. She will also be going through chapters 1-5 to draw some scenes, so I'll mention it in future a/n so that you guys can check out her amazing art!
> 
> come talk to us on twitter  
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)  
> [reveriesky](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)


	7. Goro IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira beams at him. All it takes are those few words and he lights up like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Goro’s hands feel heavy and useless at his sides, and he hesitates for a moment before slowly bringing them up to wrap around Akira’s shoulders. 
> 
> _If I lost you again…_
> 
> Better not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!

Goro is standing in the middle of Maruki's Palace with a small child clinging to his leg, wearing that ridiculous princely outfit and wondering how in the hell he got here.

He is a murderer, many times over. He pointed a gun at the head of the only person he cared about and pulled the trigger. Watched the blood run down Akira’s face and laughed. 

Now, the kid is looking up at him with a shaky smile, bright and sweet and hopeful. 

“You did good, Akira,” Goro says, because it’s true. Akira probably saved his life. 

Akira beams at him. All it takes are those few words and he lights up like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Goro’s hands feel heavy and useless at his sides, and he hesitates for a moment before slowly bringing them up to wrap around Akira’s shoulders. 

_If I lost you again…_

Better not to think about it. 

“Whoa, they defeated that tough shadow.” Futaba’s voice comes from somewhere behind them. 

Goro tenses, pushing Akira away. He breathes a sigh of relief as the soft rustle of fabric against his skin tells him his clothing has changed again, to the guise Joker once called his “true outfit.” 

He turns quickly to face the intruders and Akira hides behind him, clinging to his side. All of the Phantom Thieves are here, it would seem. He sighs, wondering how best to handle the inevitable confrontation. He hasn’t seen any of them since that day in Shido’s ship, and although it’s irrational, he resents them bitterly for having seen him at the most wretched moment of his life. He resents them even more for the mercy they offered him then. 

“With just the two of them?” Makoto says. “That’s not possible—Akechi-kun?!”

“Fuck,” Goro mutters under his breath. 

“Dude, you’re alive?” Ryuji says. “We all thought you died!”

“I’m aware.” Goro looks from Makoto to Futaba, the only two besides Akira who have any brains, and wonders what they’re going to do. 

“Wait,” Futaba says “You have a kid?”

Akira presses himself closer to Goro, and Goro fights down the urge to take the child in his arms and protect him from the onslaught of curious gazes. He knows the Thieves don’t mean to harm Akira, but he suspects they will try to take Akira from him “for his own good.” 

_Well, let them try._

“Hello,” Ann says gently, creeping closer. “What’s your name?”

Goro sighs and braces for the inevitable barrage of questions. 

“Hi.” Akira pokes his head out from behind Goro’s legs, and all of the Thieves stare at him in shock. “My name is Akira.”

For a moment there’s only silence. Then they all start talking at once, and Akira ducks behind Goro again to avoid the chaos. 

“That’s...Akira?” Haru says, her eyes on Goro. “Our Akira?” 

Akira doesn't belong to anyone, let alone the people who left him behind to bask in Maruki’s fake reality. But Goro holds his tongue and simply nods. 

“But how is that possible?” Futaba asks. 

“If I knew, don’t you think I would have fixed it by now?” Goro snaps. 

“You brought him into a Palace?” Makoto’s voice is low and disapproving. “You made him fight shadows? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” 

“I can fight,” Akira says indignantly from behind Goro. “And Robin Hood would never let anything hurt me.” 

“He calls you Robin Hood?” Ann squeals. “That’s so cute!” 

“We need to get him out of here right now,” Makoto says. “And then I have some questions for you.” 

Goro meets her steely gaze. The Phantom Thieves know his true nature now—there’s no need to play nice like he did in Sae’s casino. 

“Akira and I are going to find Maruki,” he says. “I’m going to find a way to lift this damned curse. The rest of you can go back to your perfect little realities. We don’t need you.” 

“You think we’re going to let you take Akira after what you did to him?” Makoto asks incredulously. 

Goro sets his jaw. “Do you really think you can stop me?”

“No.” Akira is clinging to him again, one little hand clutching the outside of the belt around Goro’s thigh. His voice trembles and his eyes are bright with worry. “I wanna stay with Robin Hood.” 

The Thieves exchange uneasy glances, probably surprised that anyone, let alone a vulnerable child, would choose to stay by Goro’s side. Well, Goro can hardly blame them. He finds Akira’s attachment a little surprising too. 

“Hey, don’t be upset.” Morgana steps forward, waving his little arms. “No one’s gonna take you away. We’re just surprised to see you.” 

Akira gasps in delight, letting Goro go so he can run and scoop Morgana up in a big hug. 

“Mona-Mona!” He lets Morgana go, giggling. “You’re real here.” 

“You...know Mona?” Goro asks. Could it be a sign of Akira’s memories starting to return? Maybe the strange effect is lifting already. 

Akira grins, bobbing his head. “Mona-Mona is my imaginary friend since I was a baby. Except he’s not imaginary here.” 

Morgana looks down at himself with wonder. “So that’s why I look like this.” 

The back of Goro’s neck prickles and he whirls around as a Nebiros glides towards them, its orange cloak billowing behind it. His sword is in his hand in an instant, his body thrown between Akira and his foe. 

He leaps forward, slashing wildly, and the Nebiros hisses, a gash appearing across its chest. It stumbles backwards and Akira charges in, knife raised to finish it off. Behind them, Goro can hear the Thieves’ startled exclamations. 

Akira sinks his knife into the Nebiros’ knee and it falls to the ground, helpless. Goro raises his blade to finish it off, but Akira’s voice stops him at the last moment. 

“Wait,” Akira calls out. “I think it wants to say something.” 

“Well, aren’t you a cute thing,” the Nebiros whispers, its voice like dry, crackling leaves. “Don’t you know I eat cute little dolls like you?”

Akira fumbles slightly as he draws his pistol. He aims it cautiously at the monster, his finger nowhere near the trigger. But his voice comes out steady and confident. “I’ll shoot.” 

“Don’t shoot!” the shadow squeaks. “I’m sure I have...I have some candy. Little things like you like candy, don’t they?” 

“I like candy,” Akira agrees, bobbing his head eagerly. 

The Nebiros reaches into its voluminous robe and pulls out a handful of candied skulls, tossing them towards Akira before it disappears in a sudden flash of burnt orange. Akira picks up the candy, popping one in his mouth before offering some to Goro and the Thieves, who are all standing around staring at him. 

“You really are special,” Goro says. “I can’t fucking believe it.” 

Akira grins at him through a mouthful of candy. 

* * *

After a long discussion in the nearest safe room, held in whispers while Akira sits in the corner sharing his candy with Morgana, Goro is forced to acknowledge that it would be prudent to withdraw from the Palace for now and return later with the Phantom Thieves to back him up. 

As they walk back to the entrance, Akira takes Goro’s hand, his fingers sticky with sugar. As soon as their palms touch, Goro feels cloth rippling across his body and looks down to see that he’s once again been transformed to the prince—or as the little Fool called him, the toucan. 

_“You have two personas. One for your hate, and one for your lies.”_

He’d thought that he’d left those lies behind. But if that’s the case, why does Robin Hood keep returning to him in the quiet moments when he lets down his guard? 

It’s Akira’s fault. He just knows it is. 

Outside the stadium, the Thieves huddle nearby, strategizing. Goro wonders if they know he can hear them. Maybe not. For a bunch of wanted criminals, they’ve always paid very little attention to the volume of the conversations they held in public. 

“We’ll take him to LeBlanc,” Makoto says, calm and assertive. “One or two of us will watch over him at all times. The rest will go back into the Palace to confront Maruki and figure out what’s happening.”

Without thinking, Goro draws Akira closer to his side with a hand on his shoulder. 

“What do we do about _him_?” Ann whispers, not nearly quietly enough. 

“We can’t trust—” Morgana begins, but Goro interrupts them. 

“Akira and I are going home. We’ll return to the Palace in the morning to confront Maruki. If you want, you can back us up.” 

“Don’t you think LeBlanc would be better?” Haru steps forward, her eyes flashing with anger as she looks at Goro. “That’s his home. You have no right to take it from him.” 

“What’s LeBlanc?” Akira asks. “I don’t remember it.” 

“It’s a cafe,” Goro tells him.

“Let’s ask the little dude what he wants to do.” Ryuji leans down and smiles at Akira. “You wanna go with this guy? Or you wanna come with us to a cool cafe where you can get some curry and play video games?” 

Goro is unreasonably pleased when Akira tugs on the side of his coat and says, “I wanna stay with Robin Hood.” 

The Thieves murmur to each other, concerned and probably shocked that their dear leader would ever choose someone else over them. 

But Akira’s next words make Goro’s smug smile disappear. 

“Robin Hood, can Mona-Mona come with us?” 

It was difficult to say no to adult Akira, but Goro is discovering it’s downright impossible to deny Akira’s child self anything. 

“If Morgana’s going, then we’re all going,” Makoto says, in a tone that allows for no argument. 

“It’s like a sleepover,” Akira pipes up eagerly. “Maybe we can bake a cake.” 

Goro sighs and gestures for the whole motley crew to follow him. He can already see there’s no way out of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)  
> [sora](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)


	8. Akira IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin Hood is mean and steals Akira’s food and laughs when Akira can’t reach something high up. But Robin Hood listens when he talks, teaches him useful skills and is so brave and _cool._ Akira doesn’t understand why they can’t see what an amazing person Robin Hood is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!

Robin Hood’s apartment looks too small for so many people. Akira fidgets anxiously as all of them pile in, the loud blonde boy snickering at how empty the place is. The girl with brown hair is studying the room with narrowed eyes, and Akira doesn’t miss the way her eyes linger over the mess near the couch.

Just that morning, Akira had jumped up behind Robin Hood trying to scare him, only to get a pillow in the face in return. It had dissolved into a one-sided fight with Akira trying to climb up Robin Hood’s body while the older boy smirked and held Akira’s chocolate bar high and out of reach.

Now, the evidence of their playfighting is laid bare for all of them to see. It feels almost private, and Akira wishes he had the foresight to cover it up with a blanket before he left. But he hadn’t known he would be meeting so many new people today either.

An awkward silence descends the room. Robin Hood is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring at empty air. He’s wearing the same expression that he always has before he throws open the refrigerator and chugs down two cans of beer. He looks like the whole world is against him, and Akira doesn’t like when he looks like that.

The other strangers aren’t doing much better. There is an actual cat where Mona-Mona used to be, and the rest of them are poking around the apartment with various degrees of interest. Akira wonders how they know him and why they don’t like Robin Hood.

Robin Hood is mean and steals Akira’s food and laughs when Akira can’t reach something high up. But Robin Hood listens when he talks, teaches him useful skills and is so brave and  _ cool _ . Akira doesn’t understand why they can’t see what an amazing person Robin Hood is.

“Sooo,” the blonde girl says loudly, breaking the silence. “Do you have any food?”

Robin Hood opens his mouth, probably to snap something mean, but Akira perks up before he can say anything. “I-I can make something for you!” he says, happy to have found something to do other than twitch nervously in the corner. “Please wait.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been making him cook for you,” he hears a voice behind him say.

“He doesn’t let me in my own damn kitchen,” Robin Hood growls.

There’s a silence while Akira gathers the necessary equipment. He isn’t sure what to make for so many people. Back at his parents’ house, he’s only ever cooked for himself. He’s been so happy to be able to make food for Robin Hood, to take care of him the same way the other boy looks after him, to finally be useful to somebody.

But there are so many people here now and they don’t have that much in the refrigerator. Maybe he can bake a cake?

“You actually care about him?” asks the girl dressed in pink. She looks surprised.

“No,” Robin Hood says tersely.

Akira dumps the cake mix they bought a couple days ago into the pot. “Robin Hood is very nice,” he says, and ignores the loud snort from the boy. “He gives me a lot of stuff and he shows me all these cool tricks! And he’s so strong, and powerful, and—” Akira’s eyes glaze over slightly as he remembers how heroic Robin Hood looks fighting monsters and doesn’t realize that he’s accidentally dropped the cake mix until the box makes a faint thud on the counter. “Fuck.”

Robin Hood snorts again. The rest of the people don’t look so pleased.

“You’ve taught him how to swear?!” the brown-haired girl says, looking scandalized. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“What, defiled your precious leader?” Robin Hood sneers back, though he looks absolutely delighted. “Akira’s heard way worse, haven’t you?”

Akira looks up from where he’s mixing the ingredients and ponders the question over. “You motherfucking bitch,” he says, thinking back to what Robin Hood had said during a particularly difficult monster fight. “I’m going to shove my sword up your ass so deep that you won’t be able to—”

“No more!” yells the orange haired girl, covering her ears. Robin Hood is fully snickering now. “I hate how he’s saying all those things while looking at me with the same doe eyes.”

“Akira,” says the blond-haired girl. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

Akira puts the pan in the oven. “Why not?”

The girl shoots a glance over at Robin Hood. When the boy does nothing but raise an eyebrow mockingly, she says “What would your parents think if they heard you talking like that?”

Akira takes off the oven mitts, the ones with Featherman Red on them that Robin Hood had bought for him the other day. “I don’t know,” he says quietly, and then twists his fingers together. “They aren’t around enough for me to know.”

There is dead silence.

When Akira looks up, all the strangers are looking at him with varying degrees of pity. Only Robin Hood stares straight at him, face blank. “B-but it’s okay, because I have Robin Hood now! And even though he makes fun of my hair, or kicks me out of bed every morning, I-I’m really happy that he lets me stay with him. I care about him a lot! He makes me feel like I belong somewhere. I… I…”

Akira doesn’t realize he’s blabbering until Robin Hood cuts him off. “Hey,” he says, though when Akira looks at him, he notices that the other boy seems to be avoiding his gaze. But he doesn’t look unhappy. “Check the oven timer, Akira.”

“Okay,” Akira nods, and then wipes away the tears he hasn’t noticed starting to gather up near the corners of his eyes.

Akira goes to check on the timer. No one else talks again until the oven gives a ding when it’s done with the cake. But Akira notices that the atmosphere in the room doesn’t seem as hostile as it was before.

* * *

“This is super good!” the blonde-haired girl—Ann, she had said—gushes, face stuffed with cake. “Do you bake a lot?”

“Not really,” Akira says. “Only for my birthday when Mom and Dad aren’t home.”

Ann pauses with a fork halfway to her mouth, looking horrified. But before she can say anything, Robin Hood drawls from where he’s leaning against the counter, “Do I get some?”

Akira nods and jumps out of his seat. When he picks up the knife to cut a piece, he tries the flip again and this time it works. “Showoff,” is all Robin Hood says, raising an eyebrow. Akira beams at him anyway.

When he finishes giving Robin Hood his cake, he turns back to see Haru staring at him. “That was really cool!” she says, and Akira puffs out his chest proudly. “Can you do anything else?”

Akira thinks about it, and then nods. Then he’s flicking the pistol out of his little holster, shifting his right foot forward and grasping the gun tightly with both hands. He points it at the window.

Across the room, Robin Hood doesn’t even look up from his cake. “Feet wider apart,” he says, and Akira droops and does as he’s told.

“What?!” Mona-Mona yells. “I thought that was just for decoration!”

Akira shakes his head. “Robin Hood teaches me how to shoot things with this,” he says, placing the pistol carefully back into the holster.

“What things?” Makoto asks, narrowing her eyes.

“The targets at the firing range,” he says, and doesn’t understand why everyone suddenly looks relieved. Robin Hood rolls his eyes.

“So?” he snaps. “Was there something you wanted or was the plan just to take up space?”

“Well, we had been planning to…” Makoto trails off, glancing toward Akira. “But maybe it’s not a good idea.”

“No shit,” Robin Hood mutters, putting his dirty plate in the sink. “Well, I would like to go to bed now, so if you would all kindly get the fuck out of my—”

“Wash your plate first please,” Akira says. It’s something that just a week ago he never would’ve said to anyone, much less to someone as volatile as Robin Hood. But he’s learned that the older boy values honesty and confidence above all, so he’s been trying to live up to his expectations.

He really doesn’t want to disappoint Robin Hood.

Robin Hood grumbles and glares at him. Akira pouts and glares back. He ends up winning the staring contest and Robin Hood goes to wash his plate.

“Well!” Ann says loudly. When Akira looks at her, she’s smiling widely and winks at him. “I think we should leave them alone now. We’ll meet up in front of the Palace tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure?” Ryuji whispers, though everyone in the room can hear him perfectly. “This is  _ Akechi _ we’re talking about!”

Ann elbows him in the ribs. “He’ll be fine.” She looks at Akira. “Won’t you?”

Akira nods. He doesn’t understand why all of them constantly ask if he’s okay. Robin Hood has protected him and saved his life more times than he can count. He’s more okay than he has ever been.

“Well, I guess if you think it’s alright,” Mona-Mona says, glancing over warily at Robin Hood who is busy scrubbing the dirty dish angrily. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow, Akira.”

“Bye Mona-Mona!” he exclaims, patting the cat’s head. It’s softer than he could have ever imagined, a small child curled up in a room dreaming up an imaginary friend to cure the boredom of an empty house. He’s so happy that Mona-Mona is real.

It takes a while, but the rest of them leave. Akira stands at the door and waves goodbye to all of them. A couple of them still seem hesitant, as if they are scared of whatever villainous acts they believe Robin Hood capable of.

But despite everything, Robin Hood hasn’t abandoned him. So Akira won’t leave him either.

By the time he finishes saying goodbye, Robin Hood has already changed into his pajamas and is lying on the bed, staring at his phone. Akira quickly fishes his own clothes from where they are folded neatly on top of the drawer and heads to the bathroom to change.

After he’s done, he turns off the light and crawls into bed beside Robin Hood. He has so many questions he wants to ask: who were they, how do they know him, why were they so wary of Robin Hood? But he can see the older boy’s tense figure next to him, hands balled up into fists, and decides that it isn’t the best time to ask.

“Good night,” Akira says softly instead.

There is a silence, and Akira almost thinks that the other boy has fallen asleep already. “Did you want to go with them?” Robin Hood asks finally.

“No.” Akira shakes his head without hesitation. “I don’t want to leave you. I-if that’s okay.”

Robin Hood huffs. “You’re a fool, Akira Kurusu,” he whispers. But it sounds more fond than anything, and he doesn’t say anything when Akira smiles and curls up by his side.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)   
>  [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)   
>  [reveriesky](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)


	9. Goro V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro’s chest swells with pride and affection, and he wishes he could take Akira into his arms and tell him how remarkable he is. How he has surpassed Goro’s expectations at every turn, challenged Goro when no one else could, fascinated and enthralled him and made him realize there could be something beautiful even in this ugly world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!

Goro and the Thieves do not work well together. In Joker’s absence, Makoto attempts to lead the team, but lacks Joker’s charisma and his imposing presence. Goro simply goes at his own pace and expects the team to keep up. The Thieves are not fond of Goro, and without Joker to smooth over interactions, they bicker and snark at each other. And even without the interpersonal conflict, Goro is still not used to working as part of a team after so many years alone.

Little Akira does more than pull his weight. He fights with the same ferocity and recklessness his adult self possesses. Between battles, he gives them cute smiles and asks them not to fight with each other. But even so, it isn’t enough. They’re so wrapped up in their own issues that they fail to pay attention to the danger all around them. 

And so they walk right into Maruki’s trap, charging blindly into the auditorium where Goro and Akira last confronted him. The two of them are in the lead, and as soon as they cross the threshold, some of the strange cords that fill the Palace spurt from the ground, blocking the path before the Phantom Thieves can join them. 

Instinctively Goro reaches for Akira, but more of those cords wrap around Goro’s arms and legs, rendering him immobile. They feel like rubber and metal against his skin, glittering with strange markings. He struggles, but the strange appendages are unyielding, and Goro’s efforts at freeing himself are useless and pitiful against their strength. They hold him solidly in place while Maruki advances on Akira with a self-satisfied smile. 

From behind Goro, the Phantom Thieves call out in dismay, separated from the auditorium by a wall of thick shimmering cords. Goro can hear them yelling, but can’t make out the words. 

Maybe it was a mistake to come here, to attempt to confront Maruki in his own Palace. And now Goro and the Thieves are helpless, and Maurki can do whatever he wants to Akira. 

Maruki kneels in front of the child so that they are eye level and puts his hand on Akira’s shoulder. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” Goro snarls.

“Wh-what are you doing to Robin Hood?” Akira asks Maruki, his voice trembling. 

“I just want to talk to you.” Maruki sounds kind, friendly. “As soon as we’re done talking, I’ll let him go. Promise.” 

Akira nods slowly. 

“Now Akira,” Maruki begins. “You’re a very important person. Did you know that?” 

Akira stares at the ground. “I’m not important. I don’t really matter.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Goro says. 

Akira looks up at him with wide, shimmering eyes. 

“Your friend is right,” Maruki says. “Not only do you matter to Akechi, but the fate of the entire world is actually in your hands.” 

Akira’s eyes widen and he holds out his hands, staring at them like Maruki might mean it literally. 

“See, right now there are two worlds,” Maruki says. “There’s the regular world that you remember with your mom and dad. The world where people are sad sometimes, and mean sometimes, and have hard times.” 

“What the hell are you getting at?” Goro growls. 

Maruki doesn’t even look at him. “Don’t make me put you to sleep, Akechi.” 

Goro’s hands curl into tight, useless fists, but he says nothing. He can tell when a situation is hopeless. His best bet is to wait and listen until an opportunity presents itself. 

“Like I said, there are two realities, two worlds,” Maruki continues, smiling at Akira. “The other reality is the one you’ve been living in for the past few days. The one where everyone is happy and you have a friend who cares about you.” 

“Robin Hood is my friend,” Akira says. Then he glances hopefully up at Goro, eyes sparkling. “My best friend?” 

Goro nods, and a ghost of a smile crosses Akira’s face. 

“I know he is,” Maruki says. “You may not remember this Akira, but Robin Hood died.”

Akira is quiet for a moment, twisting his fingers. “He died?” 

“Don’t fuck with him,” Goro yells. 

“He died,” Maruki says, his focus on Akira. “In your heart, you know it’s true. But it’s okay, because you made a wish that brought him back to life.” 

_ You made a wish.  _

Of course. It’s so ridiculously obvious that Goro feels like an idiot for not having worked it out sooner. How else could he possibly be here? 

Somehow the idea that Akira wished for Goro to return, out of all the possible wishes open to him, is more shocking than the realization that Goro will disappear as soon as this reality is destroyed.

_ What does it matter? I’m already dead—I’m not going to doom Akira to this sickening false reality just to save my own life. And I refuse to live in it myself, either. _

“I-I’m glad he came back,” Akira says, staring at the ground. His voice is tiny and scared; he’s obviously feeling overwhelmed by this revelation. 

“He came back to the world where everyone is happy,” Maruki says. “But in the regular world, the one from before, he’s still dead.” 

Akira blinks up at him, eyes wet and shining. “I don’t want Robin Hood to be dead.” 

“I know,” Maruki says gently. “I know. And I wish I didn’t have to put this on your shoulders, Akira. But I need you to decide, right now, which reality you like better. The world before, where people are hurting, or the world now, where everyone is happy.” 

_ So that’s his game. The bastard.  _

“You fucking monster,” Goro hisses. “You turned him into a child so you could manipulate him. You’re no savior.” 

“Oh, I didn’t turn him into a child,” Maruki says, glancing at Goro. “At least, not directly. I merely granted your wish.” 

Goro bares his teeth. “I didn’t wish for this.” 

“Didn’t you?” 

Unbidden, it comes back to him. Nearly defeated by Yoshizawa’s twisted Persona, Akira falling to the ground beside him. For a moment, Goro had thought that was the end for them, that they’d die together in that sterile auditorium. 

_ I wish I had met you earlier, before everything… Because maybe then… _

God damn Maruki. Goro had played right into his hands. 

“Listen to me, Akira,” Goro says frantically. “You can’t choose his reality. Can’t you see he’s trying to make you do what he wants?”

“But you’ll die.” Tears are streaming down Akira’s face, his lower lip trembling. “I don’t want you to die.” 

“His reality is wrong,” Goro says. “He wants to control everyone. Are you going to let him control me? Or will you keep me safe and let me go?” 

Akira bites back a sob, pressing his fist to his mouth. And Goro can see it in his eyes. He’s not going to be able to make this decision. How could he? He’s just a child.

“Please, Akira,” Goro says, his voice desperate and ragged. “I’ve been controlled by other people my entire life. It’s enough that I got to be free for a little while, be with you for a little while. I can’t live—”

“That’s enough from you,” Maruki says, and a tentacle lays itself across Goro’s mouth, cutting off his words. He squirms furiously in the tentacles’ grasp, but the cold appendages hold him like steel. He can’t see the Phantom Thieves or make out the words they are frantically yelling. 

“I’m sorry Akira. I really am.” Maruki puts his hand on Akira’s shoulder again. “But I need you to make a decision. Do you want the reality you have now, or do you want to go back to the way things used to be?” 

For the first time in a long time, Goro feels fear, creeping cold down his spine. How could a child possibly be strong enough to make such a choice? Goro’s foolish, offhanded wish is going to doom them all to a life of servitude, bound by a man who fancies himself a god. 

Tears sparkle on Akira’s cheeks as he looks at Goro, his lips curving in a wide, shaky smile. “I love you, Robin Hood,” he says, and Goro feels like his heart is breaking. 

And then Akira turns to Maruki, his little hands clenched into fists at his sides. “No,” he says, his voice rough and trembling. “I won’t do what you want. I won't, I won't, I won’t!” 

Goro’s chest swells with pride and affection, and he wishes he could take Akira into his arms and tell him how remarkable he is. How he has surpassed Goro’s expectations at every turn, challenged Goro when no one else could, fascinated and enthralled him and made him realize there could be something beautiful even in this ugly world.

Akira raises his chin and stands perfectly still as blue light emanates from his chest, surrounding him in cool radiance. Above his head, Arsene and Satanael appear, facing each other for a long, tense moment before they collide in a swirling vortex of red magic and black smoke. 

When the dark haze clears, a new persona emerges. Broad wings, yellow and gray, stretched over a wire frame. A trenchcoat red as fresh blood, and beneath a tilted hat, the grinning face of a demon. 

Blue fire obscures Akira from view, flickering and dancing like a giant torch all around him, and when it fades away, Joker is standing there, the tails of his trench coat blowing in a phantom breeze, his mask bright silver in the spotlight. He holds out one hand and calls out, “Come, Raoul!” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Maruki says. “I guess a physical confrontation is inevitable after all.” 

He snaps his fingers and immediately vanishes. 

The tentacles holding Goro in place retract too quickly, and he falls backwards for a few dizzying seconds before strong arms catch him and hold him in place. Joker, his hand on Goro’s back like he’s dipping him for a dance. 

“You’re back,” Goro whispers, overwhelmed with the rush of relief. 

Joker leans over him, gray eyes darkly intent behind the mask, and for a moment Goro is sure Joker is going to kiss him. 

But then they hear the thudding footsteps of the approaching Phantom Thieves, several voices calling out Joker’s name. Joker helps Goro to his feet like a gentleman, his hand lingering on the small of Goro’s back for a moment before he turns away to greet his team. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to us on twitter!
> 
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)   
>  [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)   
>  [reveriesky](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)


	10. Akira V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira knows that seven year old him had made the decision to respect Akechi’s wishes. He’s kind of envious that he had been so blissfully ignorant. Every time he tries to make a decision now, all he can see is the horrible grin of the cognitive double. All he can hear is the sound of the gunshots ringing through the air. All he can feel are the uneven ridges of the bulkhead door underneath his trembling hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos!

_ Akira takes a deep breath and tries not to wince as a wave of nausea washes over him. He’s felt like this ever since he came back into the Palace after Sumire, after he watched disappointment settle in Akechi’s eyes, and while he does greatly cherish Akechi’s company, he didn’t think that watching the other boy walk away would awaken such a visceral reaction in him. _

_ Akira coughs into his glove discretely and ignores the questioning look that Makoto shoots him as they exit the Palace. The rest of the Phantom Thieves had burst in during his fight with Maruki, broke free of the false reality against all odds and helped him rescue Sumire. _

_ He had thought that his attempts to reach them all week had been fruitless, that there was nothing that could possibly tear them away from a perfect world. But every single one of them had taken his words to heart, had made their own decisions to keep fighting, had showed up and demonstrated their own versions of rebellion. Akira has never been prouder of them. _

_ Now, if only this pounding headache would just go away. _

_ They make it out of the Palace, their clothes reverting back into their daily outfits. Akira frowns slightly when he notices that his pants seem a little too loose. They hadn’t been like this when he was here with Akechi before. _

_ Makoto gives Akira a warm smile. “It’s impressive that you managed to get so far on your own.” _

_ Akira opens his mouth, to tell them that he hasn’t been alone, that Akechi is alive and has been fighting by his side all this time, just like he’s always wanted. But when he starts to talk, the sound that comes out is embarrassingly high pitched and he quickly snaps his mouth shut. _

_ What is going  _ on _? _

_ Next to him, Haru gives him a concerned look. He shakes his head and tries to ignore how the motion only makes the pain worse. _

_ The rest of the Phantom Thieves start chatting amongst themselves, making plans about food and what to do about Sumire. Akira lets his thoughts drift, and if he concentrates hard enough he can almost imagine a scowling teenager standing far away from the rest of the group, staring disinterestedly at the air. _

_ But before he can continue thinking about this particular fantasy, something feels like it’s reaching inside him and tearing him apart. _

_ Akira doubles over and tries not to throw up. _

_ The Phantom Thieves are by his side in an instant, frantically inquiring about his wellbeing. He appreciates the gesture, but their worried questioning only serves to grate his ears and further fuel the pounding headache. _

_ “Sorry,” he rasps out, pitching his voice down. It still comes out squeaky. “Haru, can you take care of Morgana today?” _

_ “Of course,” she says immediately, though she still looks anxious. “Are you okay?” _

_ “’m fine,” Akira mumbles, and then pushes himself upright. He can barely see the concerned stares his friends are giving him, too busy blinking the dark spots out of his vision. “I… I need to go somewhere.” _

_ He needs to find Akechi. This whole thing started after their fight together with Maruki. What if this is happening to him too? What if he’s lying alone on the floor of his apartment, desperately trying to call for help but unable to? _

_ In his mind, the dark, musty engine room plays on repeat. _

_ Akira’s sprinting off before he even realizes what he’s doing, ignoring the yells of the Phantom Thieves behind him. His body feels uncomfortable, almost like it’s shrinking in on itself, and Akira has to swallow the bile that’s rising up in his throat. _

_ He realizes that he doesn’t know where Akechi’s apartment is. _

_ Akira skids to a stop, panting. He’s in the spot that he and Akechi always meet up at before their Kichiouji outings. He glances around frantically, hoping to catch a glimpse of the brown-haired boy, but there’s nothing. _

_ Akira’s fumbling with his phone when another wave of nausea hits, this one much worse than the last. _

_ The last thing he remembers is looking up at a woman in a blue dress—tall, way too tall, he has to crane his neck to even look at her annoyed face—before his mind goes blank. _

* * *

“You’ll die,” Akira sniffs, his face damp from tears. “I don’t want you to die.”

Robin Hood is yelling something about being controlled, but Akira doesn’t  _ care _ , he doesn’t care about anything other than keeping Robin Hood safe. He doesn’t care if this man in front of him takes over the world, doesn’t care if it means they can never see each other again, as long as Robin Hood is  _ alive _ .

The man in white is asking him again for his decision. Akira doesn’t understand everything, but one thing is clear: in one choice, Robin Hood lives; the other, he dies.

There’s only one option.

Akira looks up and opens his mouth when he notices Robin Hood staring at him. The furious expression on his face has melted away, and he seems resigned. Desperate. Scared. As if Akira is dooming him to a hopeless future.

Akira doesn’t want him to look like that.

“Please, Akira,” Robin Hood begs. He talks being toyed with his whole life, wanting to be free, but Akira can’t hear him over the pounding of his heartbeat.

He wants them to go back to the apartment and forget about all this, for Robin Hood to snicker when Akira tries to read all the big and fancy words in one of his heavy law books. He wants Robin Hood to snort and roll his eyes when Akira tries to squeeze as many cheerios into his mouth as possible. He wants Robin Hood to listen quietly while Akira tentatively sings in the living room, and then pat his head when he’s done.

He wants Robin Hood to live.

Another sob racks through his body.

He remembers Robin Hood when the other boy thinks he isn’t looking. He remembers Robin Hood sitting hunched over on the couch, head in his hands. He remembers Robin Hood, gripping his gun reflexively and looking wildly around the apartment before remembering that everything is okay. He remembers Robin Hood, figure tensed, strung up and conditioned to fight against invisible enemies.

He wants Robin Hood to be free.

“I love you, Robin Hood,” he manages to get out. He can barely see the older boy’s shocked expression through his tears. Even if Robin Hood doesn’t feel the same way about him, even if Akira is just a temporary pet project for him, Akira wants to let him know just how much he appreciates him. How happy and loved he makes Akira feel.

He turns to the man in the white coat and puts on his best grownup face. “No,” he says, balling his hands up into tiny fists. “I won’t do what you want. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!”

The air rushes out of him all at once as his mind races, gaining a decade’s worth of memories on the spot. He can feel his body growing rapidly, returning to its normal size, something sitting lightly in his heart. An awakening.

“Come, Raoul,” he calls, and his new Persona shatters into existence. He can see Maruki in front of him but he keeps his eyes on Akechi. Akechi, whose widened eyes are staring at Raoul incredulously. Akira hopes he knows what Raoul is.

A Persona. Born out of the desire to protect him.

* * *

They sit together in silence in the safe room, though Akechi is doing his best to look everywhere but at him.

After their confrontation with Maruki, Akechi had taken the opportunity to slip away when the rest of the Phantom Thieves had reappeared to fawn over Akira. It had taken him a while to reassure them that he was fine, he had his memories and body back, yes Raoul is very cool, before he had finally excused himself and pulled Akechi toward the nearest safe room.

Now, the silence is stifling.

“Akechi,” he says, the name unfamiliar after spending a week referring to him as Robin Hood. “Can we talk?”

“No.”

Akira winces and tries another topic. “Thank you for looking after me,” he says, and Akechi flinches, as if he had been hoping that Akira wouldn’t retain his memories. “The little guy appreciated it too. As I’m sure you know.”

Akechi doesn’t say anything, and Akira tries not to think about the memories of him latching onto the other boy’s leg, of him dropping the love word just like that, of Akechi’s small but genuine smile directed at him.

“How is he?” Akechi asks finally, not meeting his gaze. Akira wonders if he is remembering the night they made a blanket fort together, or the time when he had sat and watched seven year old Akira direct a whole play of sock puppets.

Akira shrugs. “No clue, but he’s probably fine. I retained all the memories, so I’m sure the little guy is back at his house, completely oblivious.”

Akira remembers the house. Cold and lonely and impersonal. It’s only been a year, and he’s already forgotten how much he dreads living in it.

Akechi seems content with his answer and heads to the door, presumably to put as much space as possible between the two of them. Akira quickly lunges forward and catches his wrist before he can leave. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“I didn’t do it for  _ you _ ,” Akechi shoots back, though his glare seems to deflate slightly. “Let go of me so I can go kill something.”

Akira frowns and addresses the other elephant in the room. “About what Maruki said-”

“While your therapist said  _ plenty _ of wonderful things, I refuse to discuss any of them here.” Akechi bares his teeth at him. “We can talk later. Now, let go of me before I stab  _ you _ , Akira.”

Akira, who no longer has a cute and childish face to save him from being stabbed, lets go.

Outside the safe room, the Phantom Thieves all flood around him, some still casting wary glances at where Akechi is standing. Akira explains that they’re leaving for the day, that they can meet here again tomorrow, and the rest of the team agrees easily enough.

As they make their way out of the Palace, Akira can’t help but let his mind drift to Akechi. He doesn’t know how to process the fact that Akechi might be dead in their old reality, slipping through his fingers again. He doesn’t know how to process the fact that him being here means someone had to wish for his death to be erased, and really, there is only one suspect.

He doesn’t know how to process the fact that he might lose Akechi again.

Akira knows that seven year old him had made the decision to respect Akechi’s wishes. He’s kind of envious that he had been so blissfully ignorant. Every time he tries to make a decision now, all he can see is the horrible grin of the cognitive double. All he can hear is the sound of the gunshots ringing through the air. All he can feel are the uneven ridges of the bulkhead door underneath his trembling hands.

Akira feels lost.

“Shadow!” Futaba calls. Instantly, the team melts into formation, instincts driving them into position as they face off against two Baals. 

Akechi materializes next to him silently, sword drawn and ready. Akira’s suddenly reminded of the other half of Maruki’s speech, the part where he explained why Akira turned into a little kid to begin with, and he can’t help but smile.

Akira feels lost. But this, at the very least, he can still do.

“Hey,” he calls out. When Akechi turns to look at him, he lets a familiar smirk wash over his face. They can talk later. For now, there’s something else to do. “Want to do a team attack?”

Akechi looks surprised for a brief moment before he quickly covers it up with a frown. Akira’s never asked directly before, after all. “Fine,” he grouses, and then hunches forward and prepares to lunge.

Akira stops him before he can move. “No,” he says, and then mimes a beak. “The other one.”

Akechi stares at him incredulously. “Are you insane?”

“Sure,” Akira agrees, and then gives him an impish smile. “Scared?”

Akechi’s glaring daggers at him, and for a moment Akira thinks that he’ll refuse. But then his outfit is melting away and Crow bursts into existence once more. “Hardly,” he scoffs, and then looks patronizingly down his long nose at Akira. “Do try to keep up.”

Akira smirks.

The attack is a little harder for him now that he’s fully grown and can’t reach kneecaps as easily as before. But he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and his experience with fighting with Akechi comes in handy when the two of them dance effortlessly around each other, taking turns slashing at the Shadows.

At the end, Akira takes out his gun and wonders what Akechi is going to do now that he doesn’t have to steady a seven year old’s shaky hands. Will he continue attacking the enemy with his sword, or will he stop and watch?

Akira almost drops his gun when he feels a presence behind him.

It’s Akechi, standing with his back pressed against Akira’s, arm outstretched forward in the same direction and pointing his own gun at the Baals. Akechi, whose eyes are still a little feral from adrenaline from the fight, a wild grin etched on his face.

“Scared?” he parrots, turning up his nose at him. But Akira can make out something genuine in his expression.

Akira smirks. “Never.”

They fire as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I wanted to end the fic here but cruellae said no so you guys get an extra epilogue chapter >.>~~  
> The next chapter will be half Akechi pov, half Akira pov. Thank you guys so much for your support, and see you Friday for the last chapter!!
> 
> come talk to us on twitter  
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)  
> [reveriesky](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are little trinkets scattered around the room, small messes filled with anecdotes and inside jokes.  
> Around the apartment, there is evidence scattered everywhere to prove that seven year old Akira lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support!! More at the end, but thank you for sticking with us through this journey.
> 
> Same as always, first scene is Akechi pov by cruellae, second scene is Akira pov by Erina.

The door to LeBlanc is locked at two in the morning, but that’s barely an obstacle for Goro, who was infiltrating Palaces long before Akira even set foot in the Metaverse. After a few minutes, he has it open and slips inside. 

The goddamn bell rings, announcing his presence for a half second before he reaches up and silences it. 

_ What the hell am I doing here?  _

He should leave. There are a hundred reasons, starting with the complicated tangle of feelings he doesn’t want to examine and ending with the knowledge that as soon as Maruki is defeated, Goro will disappear, whisked back to a reality where he’s already dead. 

It would be cruel to let Akira become any more attached than he already is. 

But Goro can’t fucking  _ sleep.  _

In the past few days, he’s grown too accustomed to little Akira’s presence, his soft breathing on the other side of the bed. The awareness that Akira was nearby, that he was safe and content, had soothed him to sleep each night. 

Now Goro’s characteristic insomnia is back, worse than it’s ever been, and he knows if he leaves now, he won’t sleep at all. Which would be fine, except that he suspects the fight tomorrow will be one of the hardest he’s ever faced. 

He braces himself, calling on the same determination that once drove him on a reckless quest for revenge, and climbs the stairs. 

Akira is asleep on the bed, eyes closed and breathing deep and even. Fortunately Morgana is nowhere to be seen, and Goro remembers overhearing something about him staying the night with Haru. A stroke of luck in this shitty situation. 

There’s a faded, scratchy blanket on the couch and, fully aware of the irony, Goro picks it up and spreads it out on the floor beside the bed. He steals a pillow from the couch as well and lies on his back, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. 

Slowly, his eyes drift closed. 

He wakes again in the dark to the sound of sheets rustling. He’s more comfortable now, a blanket thrown across him and a warm body at his side, their arms barely brushing. 

“Akechi?” 

He ignores Akira’s gentle whisper. 

“Robin Hood,” Akira murmurs. 

Goro scowls, but rolls over to face Akira. In the dark, Akira’s features seem more gaunt, haunted by the responsibility he carries. 

“What.” Goro levels his best indifferent glare at Akira. It’s a little less effective given that he’s sleeping on the floor by Akira’s bed. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Akira says with an infuriatingly tender smile. 

“Don’t get attached,” Goro growls. 

Akira can’t meet his eyes, and for the first time since they met, he looks truly defeated. It hurts, seeing Akira like this. Laid low and heartbroken, and it’s Goro’s fault. 

“I don’t want to make this harder for you,” Goro says. 

Akira looks at him, his eyes wide and wet and gleaming like starlight.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” He laughs softly. “It would be worth it. Anything I could have with you would be worth whatever comes after.” 

“You’re going to regret this,” Goro murmurs, and then presses a gentle kiss to Akira’s lips. 

When he pulls away, Akira is smiling, bright enough to banish the shadows from his eyes. “I love you, Robin Hood,” he says, and Goro kisses him to shut him up. 

He spends the night with Akira nestled in his arms, breathing in the alpine scent of his shampoo and imagining that dawn might never come. He wants to stay awake, but Akira’s nearness is a heady drug, the soft sound of his breathing sweeter than a lullaby. Just before he slips into sleep, Goro thinks he hears Akira whisper something, lips moving like a prayer against Goro’s skin. 

“Don’t think you can leave me, Goro. I’m going to find you again. I promise.” 

And Goro thinks that if this is his last night in existence, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. 

* * *

The apartment is dark when Akira breaks the lock on the window and climbs in.

Tomorrow, he will be taking the train back to the countryside, returning to the empty and quiet house. Tomorrow, he will be apart from his friends, counting down days in his parents’ house until he can return to Tokyo once more. 

Tomorrow, he will say sorrowful goodbyes.

But today, he is home.

Inside, everything is the same as the day he left, a little seven year old boy off to fight the big scary monsters, unaware that in just a couple hours he would vanish out of existence.

There are little trinkets scattered around the room, small messes filled with anecdotes and inside jokes.There is a blanket draped over the couch, for when the two of them had huddled close and argued about Neo Featherman all night until they both passed out. There is a cardboard box in front of the counter, a makeshift stair to help a tiny little boy reach the tall kitchen cabinets. There are two plates on the table, two dirty cups in the sink, two pillows on the floor.

Around the apartment, there is evidence scattered everywhere to prove that seven year old Akira lived.

Akira grips the glove in his pocket and makes his way to the bookshelf. He carries it everywhere with him, on an endless journey in pursuit of his rival. There has been no sign of him since Maruki’s defeat, since the false reality shattered and gave way to this imperfect world, where Akira stands and stares at the last remaining proof that Goro Akechi ever existed.

But Akira won’t give up. He made a promise, after all.

There are tons of books on the shelf, and Akira snickers softly to himself when he reads through the titles. He remembers fumbling through the pronunciations, a seven year old’s mouth struggling to wrap around unfamiliar syllables.

Goro had snorted. But then he had spent hours teaching him how to say most of the words anyway.

Akira can feel some dampness gathering in the corners of his eyes, and he quickly blinks it away.

In the bottom corner of the shelf, there is a photo album. There is nothing in it. Seven year old Akira had picked it up curiously and asked why it was completely empty.

“I don’t have any good memories,” Goro had said, taking a swing of his beer. The answer had made little Akira so sad that he quickly slid the book back into the shelf and never asked again.

Akira flips the book open absentmindedly and is surprised to come face-to-face with a single photograph. And then he stares. And stares. And stares.

In it, seven year old Akira is wiping at his eyes, nose running messily. He’s always been such an ugly crier. 

He’s huddled with the blanket pulled over his head. It must have been taken just after they watched the Featherman episode where Grey Pigeon dies.

Next to him, Goro is smirking at the camera, arm outstretched, presumably holding up the phone for the selfie. He throws up a mocking peace sign next to the boy’s crying figure.

It is so undeniably rude. But it is so undeniably  _ Goro _ .

A tear makes its way down his cheek. And then another one, until he’s full on crying.

Akira is swiping at his eyes uselessly when the door to the apartment opens. He expects Makoto, a stern lecture about breaking into empty apartments. He expects Morgana, yowling about sneaking out of Leblanc yet again.

He does not expect a sharp and biting voice. “You still look so fucking ugly when you cry.”

Akira whirls around. Goro stands near the door, arms crossed and body leaning against the frame. His eyes are bright and intense, the same competitive glint shining in them. When Akira lets out a half choked sob, Goro’s mouth curls up into a challenging smirk and he raises an eyebrow.

_ Oh, _ Akira thinks.  _ There he is. _

_ My Robin Hood. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and done!! ~~we've been looking forward to the pic of rude goro for awhile hahaha~~  
>  (erina) i really appreciate all the support you guys have shown not only this fic, but this series. when i first started writing Future Past, i didn't know anyone in the fandom. and now, i got to collab with cruellae and sora, two amazing people, and got to look forward to all of your wonderful comments every week. thank you!!  
> (cruellae) thank you mari for the brilliant storytelling and sora for the gorgeous art, and thank you all for your support!
> 
> and one last time, come talk to us on twitter!  
> [cruellae](https://twitter.com/antithesiscrow)  
> [erina](https://twitter.com/nagittos)  
> [reveriesky](https://twitter.com/reveriesky)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Where I Belong ("Ren Sakura" Sounds Nice)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609712) by [Marie_Murasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Murasaki/pseuds/Marie_Murasaki)




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